Enough is Enough: Mojo and the Saving of Me

This is the conclusion of my post on the gift of mojo, which focuses on the magic within us all. To my regular readers, some of this information may be repetitive. It is all a part of an introductory e-book I am completing to introduce me and my story. It is a backdrop to upcoming posts about honouring our most magical gift to this world. 


Desperately Calling for the Mojo I Buried

Two weeks after I was terminated, I got up from my bed to go to the gym.  I went to the bathroom and saw that my vision was blurred. I was abnormally tired, so I decided to go back to bed. As I lifted one foot to climb on to my bed, my whole body involuntarily slid to the ground.

I tried to get up, and soon found that this was absolutely impossible! “This must be a dream,” I thought! “This can’t be real!”

With not a lick of sense in my head, I tried to crawl back to the bathroom. That was when it hit me. “I must be dying!”

With my 5-year-old daughter’s help, we were finally able to call 911. I soon realized that I had experienced a devastating stroke, which paralyzed much of the right side of my body!

The first thing that was done once I got to the hospital was to put me in the Stroke Buster machine. This machine reverses the effects of a stroke for 90% of people, if it is used within three hours after a stroke. Either I was a part of that unlucky 10% or I had the stroke more than three hours before they got to me. Either way, I was in big trouble!

I could not walk. I could not feed myself or brush my teeth. I could speak only jumbled un-understandable words. I could barely think.

My mojo, my ability to communicate and impact others, seemed to have disappeared. Did I kill it by burying it alive? I desperately needed it to save me, to fight for me. I needed my mojo’s real and powerful focus on intention. In this case, the intention for the healing of all that I am, the reactivation of the best of me in this world, the birthing of a new Dawn.

Spirit Reawakening My Mojo

During the first or second month I was in the hospital, I had 2 riveting spiritual experiences. Firstly, I found myself pushing my wheelchair back and forth in my room. Out, of what seemed like my insides, came the question “who am I.” The question was repeated over and over again. It was then that I knew for sure I had not been who I thought myself to be!

In response to my desperate plea, I heard “you are love.” The voice came from inside me; yet I was sure I was not the one doing the speaking.

The words, “you are love,” sent a charge throughout my body that bolted me out of my hospital room sharing the overwhelming love that I felt inside me. I went into the TV room, then into the rooms of other patients. I could barely speak an understandable sentence, yet I communicated authentic emotions through words of love, of joy, of hope. I smiled from ear to ear and my touch seemed to come from deep down in my heart, inspiring joy wherever I went.

I inspired a young lady who was angry and confined to a wheelchair due to an injury to her spinal cord, made during a routine operation. She realized her healing was in focusing on the amazing love she had in her life, not on the loss of superficial relationships that disappeared with her illness. As I spoke with her, she broke down in tears of joy.

That special force in me, my mojo, brought comfort to a man who seemed depressed, disillusioned, and scared after a brain operation. I reminded him that he was not alone, and that I was one of many who would be there to listen to him or speak the hope he needed. I was inspired to know that each day I was there, he sought me and my mojo out.

Days or weeks later, I was waking up from my sleep when I heard a clear voice say “Share your story with the world.”  A flood of tears immediately came from my eyes, as though this was the magical news I wanted and had been waiting for all my life.  There was only one problem. What story? What was the story that the universe wanted me to tell?

Confronting My Demons: Back in the Real World

The hospital became like Top Hill to me, a place where my mojo felt free to be, free to impact the world and heal others, while healing me. However, after 5 months, I had to return to that world that scared me and my mojo into hiding.

I was scared. Not only was I black and ageing, now I was also severely disabled. I felt I was not good enough for anything. My mojo it seemed was once again slowly seeping its way underground.

After 4 additional months in Outpatient Rehab, I was still unable to utter a clear sentence, barely able to move around, except with a quad cane and wheelchair. I was assessed permanently disabled, physically and mentally. Furthermore, I was back at home with only a sheet of exercises and a few mobility aids to help me exist.

My Mojo and the Enduring Possession of Me

Somehow inside me, I knew, enough was enough! I would not accept myself as permanently disabled and a lost gift to the world. This was not who my God intended me to be. I had to stand up and face those dissenting fears that would have me hide forever.  It was then that I and my mojo began its true awakening, its full existence above ground.

I reached deep inside myself, connected with God, and claimed for good, the mojo I had almost lost. You will heal, whispered the passionate and spirit-filled voice of my mojo, with undeniable confidence. You just have to believe and honour time, for this is key to re-abling your mind, body and spirit.  It is your key to success in all that you do.

With supernatural knowing, I believed I would heal beyond the doctor’s expectations. I knew that I had to consistently confront my fears, work persistently with great effort, and honour time. The last of these, time, was the most eye-opening, for it was the key to the lifetime endurance and strength of my mojo.

I had to be reminded that what I want does not show up right way, and rarely shows up the way I expect. As in the case with my move from Top Hill, I needed to accept and acclimatize myself to Canada, or else things would seem desperately wrong. Yet, nothing was wrong!

Like my disability, my mojo did not need to hide from anything or anyone, it just needed to adapt. I had to learn to accommodate my disability, while I worked consistently to gain increasing mobility over the long-term. I have to accommodate the new and changing environments in which my mojo must operate, while I work persistently to have increasing impact on the transformation of people’s lives.

Adaptation takes learning and time. It takes time to adapt to my new normal so I could clear out the noisy fear, and hear those who are calling for the magic of my mojo.

The state of my stroke was a new normal calling my mojo forth; illness and failure calls forth our mojos. Through my brain attack, I found incomprehensible will to take my body and my mind through fear, and work beyond perceived human limitations towards making change happen in me. I found the ability to continuously exercise, travel, read, write and even lead. I did so until the paralyzed parts of my body and my atrophied muscles substantially released their hold on me. I did so until my mojo clearly revealed itself outside of me, making me again ready to consciously impact the world.

Through all this, I have gained more than the vibrant presence of my mojo. I saw that we become who we must stand and fight for.  We must become the people who impassions and ignites our mojo. I had to become the immigrant, the minority, those who feel oppressed, and those who feel they must hide to survive. I had to become those who underperform, those who have failed miserably, the rejected, the sick, and those who fall as low as they can go. I had to become the survivor, those who pick themselves up out of the deepest and darkest places, and those who find their life direction and their magic through their unique mojo. All these people I choose to serve, all these people I had to become, and all these people I am.

Becoming a Champion for the Empowerment of Mojo

As I find in me the people I am meant to serve, I also found the story I am meant to tell.  It is the story that I lived; a story of lessons and guidance in the discovery and use of our mojo. It is a story about discovering and honouring our most magical gift to this world. It is a story about developing soft skills,[1]such as self-confidence, self-control, collaboration, pleasing personality and definite aim; soft skills that enable us to live our best lives.  The telling of that story begins now.


[1] Soft Skills or people skills are personal characteristics, which enable people to interact and communicate effectively with others. The qualities encompass the ability to deal with or handle all types of people with great success.

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